"You can't take a picture of this. It's already gone."

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

It's the Small things, really

Bed full of books
and bathtubs full of words
I'm soaking and swimming
in them.

I've spent so long
looking at everything through a lens
of pain that something this beautiful
burns my eyes.

beauty looks like meandering forays
into starless nights
finding joy in dark places

e n o u g h

In the long scheme of things
I hope you brought cups
and buckets
and bathtubs
for my blood.

I hope you love the color
I hope you like crimson and how
warm it all feels.

It's fresh,
I promise.

Every time you've asked,
I've bled for you.
It's only blood.

I just wonder
in the back of my head
how much blood can one person bleed?
When have I bled enough?

Tuesday, May 10, 2016


I have nearly perfected
the art of the inane deferential tone
flattery in a few short sentences.
Lightly seasoning the words with idioms
based on location
but rest assured,
every heart is blessed with equal fervor.

I can make well wishes
and salutations sound like
You'll never see my long hair
or my cauldron or a single
solitary talisman.
My profanity is perfectly silent.

Monday, May 9, 2016

Late Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day!

Even though I doubt
there will be any sort of presence for this day
every witch should be given some sort of honor.
So here's yours.

The gift of comparison
you gave.

Occasionally, someone touches my hair gently,
I remember how you jerked at it
pulled and brushed and braided while I winced
and told me that beauty was pain.

When anyone makes a comment on my clothes
or how I look,
I think about how you told me that I was not pretty enough,
or so pretty that I'd never work hard enough
or the endless lectures and books about diets
or how mad you were when I finally had enough
and told you that you were wrong, my feet weren't fat.
And you cried.

When I tell the truth about anything,
I have a small victory
because you taught me it was safer to lie.

When I make a phone call
or take a phone call
and I don't feel fear or anxiety
I think about how
I cringed at every phone call until last year.

When I look at my skin
and the permanent decisions I've made
and the ink that lives there
I smile,
because you taught me that I only ever meant something
when you were proud of me
when I did what I was told.

This won't mean anything to you
but you were right about a few things
I like my hair better curly than straight
Practice doesn't make perfect,
but it does make things easier.

Happy Mother's Day/